The Gift I Hold

After a whirlwind of a few weeks, all my other “duties” started piling up. And with the lack of sleep, they just felt heavier than usual. I found myself in tears, texting my husband:

“How am I supposed to do this?!”

And that one question kept growing.

How am I supposed to take care of my baby, take care of myself, clean the house, cook dinner, spend time with God, keep up with friends, invest in hobbies, nurture my marriage, and still—somehow—sleep?

The pressure started to feel overwhelming. I felt a wave of anxiety come over me.

My husband gently told me to go outside, sit with God, and figure out what I was feeling. (Side note—and maybe this is a whole post on its own—but ladies, please consider the kind of man and father someone is before you marry him. People don’t change overnight. If he isn’t supportive or hardworking now, you’ll feel the weight of that tenfold once you’re married and especially when you become parents.)

Anyway—back to the moment.

So I’m lying in my hammock, completely overwhelmed, having it out with God. Telling Him I can’t do it all. That He can’t expect me to. That I’m sorry I’m failing. That it’s just not possible. On and on until I finally stopped and said:

“Okay Lord, I’m here. What do You have to say?”

And in the faintest whisper, I heard:

Don’t miss it.

That’s when it hit me.

I don’t need to keep up.

I need to slow down.

I need to embrace this new role. This precious baby. This is answered prayer.

I’m living in what I once begged for. A longing fulfilled. I’ve wanted to be a mama my whole life—and now, here she is.

And the King of Kings isn’t placing pressure on me. He’s giving me permission—no, an invitation—to enjoy it. To rejoice. To savor this gift.

Society says: do it all. Be everything. Keep producing. But Jesus invited Martha to sit down. To be still. To choose what’s better.

So really… who cares if there are dishes in the sink, or the floor hasn’t been vacuumed, or the bathtub isn’t scrubbed?

Who cares if I’m making simple, nourishing meals instead of aiming for Michelin stars?

Who cares if texts go unanswered, calls go missed, posts go unseen or polos unheard?

I will never get this time again. And it would break my heart to look back and realize I spent it trying to keep up with things that didn’t even matter.

His yoke is easy. His burden is light.

In the quiet, I’m reminded of His promise: to carry our burdens, offer rest, and fill our hearts with peace—inviting us to delight in our babes, just as the Father delights in us.